nd his group
were desperate men; they would never let him live if he refused to
cooperate. He had no choice at all. It was disillusioning to discover
that Hawkes had taken him in mostly because he would be useful in a
robbery.

He tried to tell himself that this was a jungle world where morality
didn't matter, and that the million credits he'd gain would help finance
hyperdrive research. But those were thin arguments that held no
conviction. There was no justification for what he was going to do. None
whatsoever.

But Hawkes held him in a cleft stick. There was no way out. He had
fallen among thieves--and, willy-nilly, he would be forced to become one
himself.

"All right," he said bitterly. "I'll drive the getaway truck for you.
But after it's over, I'll take my share and get out. I won't want to see
you again."

Hawkes seemed to look hurt, but he masked the emotion quickly enough.
"That's up to you, Alan. But I'm glad you gave in. It would have been
rough on both of us otherwise. Suppose we get some sleep."

Alan slept poorly during what was left of the night. He kept mulling the
same thoughts round and round endlessly in his head, until he wished he
could unhinge the front of his skull and let the thoughts somehow
escape.

It irritated him to know that Hawkes had taken him in primarily because
he fit the qualifications for a plan concocted long before, and not for
his own sake. All the intensive training the gambler had given him had
been directed not merely toward toughening Alan but toward preparing him
for the role he would play in the projected robbery.

He felt unhappy about the robbery too. The fact that he was being
coerced into taking part made him no less a criminal, and that went
against all his long-ingrained codes of ethics. He would be just as
guilty as Hawkes or Webber, and there was no way out.

There was no sense brooding over it, he decided finally. When it was all
over he would have enough money to begin aiming for his real goal,
development of a workable hyperspace drive. He would break completely
with Hawkes, move to some other city perhaps. If his quest were
successful, it would in some measure be an atonement for the crime he
was going to commit. Only in some measure, though.

The week passed slowly, and Alan did poorly at his nightly work. His
mind was anywhere but on the flashing games board, and the permutations
and combinations eluded him. He lost, though not heavily.

Each nig